


A bird in the hand

by DiseasedBreeze



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Amnesia, AmnesiacRobin, Anal, Apprentice Arc, Apprentice!Robin, Bad end, Brainwashing, Conditioning, Drugging, Faking Death, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation in Shower, Mindbreak, Riding, Self-Harm, Stepping On, Unhealthy Behavior, blowjob, dubcon, eye loss, self mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiseasedBreeze/pseuds/DiseasedBreeze
Summary: Robin has been Slade's apprentice for over a year, today is the day he finally completely belongs to Slade now his memories of his old life are gone. What's not gone however is his complicated feelings towards his master.A short amnesia fic on the premise that when given the supersoldier serum to enhance his abilities to Slade's level Robin loses his memories.
Relationships: Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing he remembers is the pain that consumed everything. Then there was peace and darkness, for a long time darkness, then warmth and comfort and safety.

Now, for the first time there was light.

He wakes up in a bed. For the first time he opens his eyes and the gray walls are…familiar to him, though he can’t place them, it’s like something he had once seen in a dream. It’s weird. There was nothing before the pain but he knew he was in a bed. Pillow, blankets, sheets, he knew what they were and what they did even if he didn’t remember being taught. His head seems heavy and his vision is strange. He knows this place but he doesn’t know _how_ he knows.

The blankets shift around him as he pushes himself up on his elbows. His body aches but it is nothing compared to the pain that had been. Muscle degradation, he thinks, then wonders why he knows that. His head throbs at he pulls himself up enough to get another look at the room. It is _his_ room, but he doesn’t know how he knows that either. He knows it normally doesn’t look like this though. The medical equipment is new, even as he finds himself identifying it and working out its use. He must have been in an accident, that was the pain, and he must have been taken here to recover. This wasn’t a hospital though, this was definitely his room, even if he can’t remember the specifics he _feels_ like this is his room. Even if he doesn’t have the memories any more he does have the feeling of things. The time before the pain is just an empty space in his head. He tries to focus on the room beyond his bedside.

He manages it and notices that besides the medical equipment there is something else that’s changed about his room. There’s a man sitting in a chair on the other side of the room and he also seems familiar. The black and orange plated body armor stirs a confused feeling that isn’t sure if it’s love or fear. All he knows is the man is the most important thing in his world. He’s sitting slumped over, face turned towards the ground and head held in one hand. He looks tired and vulnerable in a way that seems _wrong_ , he should not look that way. He needs to fix it.

He reaches a hand toward the man and tries to move to his _side_ where he needs to be. His vision swoops and a fluttering lightness fills his head and it feels like it’s going to fly away on its own. An involuntary squeak of discomfort leaves him at the feeling and the man stirs.

He sees white hair pulled back in a short ponytail, and a neatly clipped beard, white patch across one eye and the other a startlingly clear blue as the man looks up at him. A flash of emotion passes over the man’s face too quick to tell what it is as he gets up from the chair.

A sudden burst of _fear/dread/danger_ sweeps over him before the man’s arms are wrapping around him and the feeling turns to _yes/good/relief_ as he recognizes the feeling as the comfort he had felt before he had woken. His own arms rise to curl around the black body armor on instinct. It feels right, it feels safe to be like this. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until one gloved finger wipes the tear from his cheek. The fingers of his other hand are stroking through his hair.

“You’re back, it’s okay now, you’re back.” The man tells him in a whisper as he holds him close. It feels like a reward somehow, but he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it.

“I’m sorry.” He’s repeating as he cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” The man asks him.

“Whatever I did that got me hurt.” He sobs. “I don’t remember, I’m _sorry._ ”

“You don’t remember…You don’t remember _anything?_ ” The man asks, tilting his head up so he’s forced to meet the man’s eye.

He nods with a small desperate whimper. He knows the man wasn’t someone he should disappoint but he _can’t_ lie. He prays that the man will see that and he won’t be punished. The single eye seems to burn into him, scouring his soul, before it accepts what it sees.

“You’ve been in a coma for three months.” The man tells him. “it is probable you’ve suffered memory loss. I am your master and you are my apprentice.”

“Master…” He says softly and the word feels right on his tongue. Familiar, like the room. “Apprentice. It feels…right.” It isn’t the right word but his master smiles and the sheer _relief_ he feels from seeing that smile erases any attempts to think further. His master is pleased, he has passed this test. He’s done well and won’t be punished.

His master’s arms feel so good around him, it’s something he craves but doesn’t know why. He knows its good, being touched means he has done something good and that for now he is _safe._ He’s finally safe, why does it feel so long since he’s been safe?

His wasted muscles ache and he winces. His master seems to notice his discomfort and draws back. Already he finds himself craving a return to the warmth he had just received but he steels himself. Rewards were to be earned, he knows this, it is not his place to request them.

“Come, we have work to do if you’re going to return to peak physical condition.” His master tells him.

He tries to stand, and things seem unsteady even for aching legs. He can’t balance and nearly tips out of the bed onto the floor. He finally realizes what it was that was making this room seem strange in his vision. His hand goes to his head and touches bandages. He trails them down to thick cladding over one side of his face. His fingers compulsively trail over one spot in the center of the bandages; concave where it should be convex.

“Where…?” He asks, confusion clear on his face as he can’t remember what he’s asking or why.

His master grabs the hand by the wrist and gently forces it down.

“You did that yourself.” He says. “You said ‘If you’re going to make me into you, I’m going to look like you’ and tore your eye out yourself.” He smiles softly. “I found it very flattering.” His master says, not mentioning it was the last bitter defiance of his apprentice’s former self caught in the throes of madness. He’d thought he was dying. He nearly had.

It had been surprisingly simple to convince the Teen Titans his apprentice had died.

A robot double wouldn’t have worked, but he’d paid the exorbitant amount needed to have an exact clone of his apprentice lab grown. The clone had no mind of its own, in that it wasn’t a _perfect_ double. It had been simple enough to install the neutral interface he’d already put in his apprentice’s suit and puppet it to its death in the defenses of a likely target. It looked like a job gone wrong, and the autopsy of the charred corpse would show it to be his apprentice. After all they were genetically identical.

After that he had gone dark entirely. It was easy enough to mistake for grief, or regret, or simply the honoring of a bargain. Without any actions or leads on his location he’d avoided the wrath of angry heroes while focusing entirely on preparing his apprentice for the final step in his training.

The Supersoldier Serum.

It had killed those Slade had trained before, but this time was different. Robin was special, he was strong in ways the others hadn’t been. He was still young, flexible, resilient. He had bounced back from every lesson Slade had taught him, absorbing it and growing stronger. If anyone could adapt to the serum and survive like he had it would be his apprentice.

Robin had taken it willingly of course. He’d been aware that he’d likely been signing his own death warrant, and if he survived he would belong completely to Slade. He had bargained, the complete release of the Titans from this and future schemes in return for his utmost obedience. Slade had destroyed the nanites at the same time Robin had administered the serum to himself. His apprentice had been prepared to die for them. In a way he had, if the memory was counted as the self.

What was left was instincts and impressions, not specifics, which suited his purposes perfectly. With his apprentice’s memories gone all the love, all the fierce loyalty, all the tireless dedication he had towards his team was now directionless. Slade offered himself as its new target.

His master takes his apprentice’s bare arm in one hand and a combat knife in the other and carefully drags the point of the blade down his forearm. He feels the stinging pain as the skin splits and blood wells up from the cut but doesn’t think of pulling away or tensing. His master pulls the blade away then takes a cloth out of his belt and sweeps it back up his apprentice’s arm to clean the bleeding cut. When his master pulls the cloth away the blood remains on the fabric but the cut has healed leaving nothing but a smear of blood. It’s like magic.

His master raises the knife again, this time dragging it over his own skin in a flash of steel. This time he can see the wound healing in front of his eyes. To see it feels forbidden and relieving at the same time, like this is a hidden secret he’d wanted uncovered for so long.

“We are the same.” His master says and there’s real joy welling up from those four words. “We are the same.”

Why do those four worlds feel like the weight of the world has settled on his shoulders?

“The same...” He repeats to himself, trying to force himself to accept the enormity of those words. His master...was his master, unstoppable and unreachable. It feels wrong to be the same thing as him but his master had told him this so it must be true and he must be happy. His master is happy and his master’s happiness is his happiness. His body smiles for him, it makes his face ache but his heart is full. “We are the same.”

His master accepts his acceptance and his heartbeat speeds up. It feels good to have his sincerity be clear enough that his master doesn’t require proof from him. He would offer proof freely of course, his master’s acceptance and, when he earned it, his approval was the most important to him. He is his master’s apprentice; he can never lie or withhold anything from him, no matter how harmless it may seem. He exists to fulfill his master’s will, it’s a truth he feels down to his bones. He can’t stop his tongue from moving as he follows in step with his master, ignoring the pain of the weakness of his body as he always did in order to be at his master’s side, but he wouldn’t want to.

“…I love my master…but sometimes I see you and I’m afraid.” He confesses in a hushed whisper. “Why am I afraid?”

His master tilts his head up so they are seeing eye to eye.

“You’re afraid of disappointing me.” Slade lies. “You’re afraid you have done wrong and you will be punished. It is a _good_ fear, Apprentice. It is what keeps us from becoming complacent. I will never hurt you without a reason.”

He strokes his thumb across the boy’s cheek.

“You are so close to being perfect. Soon you’ll earn a name of your own.” He says softly and the boy visibly shivers at the praise, all the ingrained habits Slade had beaten into him perfectly preserved. He’s being too nice but Slade had three months to accept that the boy might never wake up. To see the effort he’d put into obtaining the serum for his apprentice hadn’t been wasted has put him in a good mood.

“Thank you master.” The boy replies with genuine happiness shining out of his pale face. He stands tall and proud despite the pain he’s in.

His apprentice knows everything he’d suffered was to make him perfect, to chip away at his weaknesses until they were gone. Whatever traces of the boy he’d once been that were left had been destroyed by the serum. Already his brain was recovering, returning to the patterns of thought Slade had trained him in, but with the benefit of the serum’s enhancement. By the time his memories return, if they ever did, he would understand why Slade had done it and agree it was for his own good.

He passes by the training grounds and sees his apprentice stiffen in surprise. His apprentice was a good liar, but Slade had long since learned the tells he couldn’t hide and his weakened body made them obvious. He doesn’t have to give a reminder; the boy is already straightening up with a frown that says he was annoyed at himself for expecting anything from his master.

“First the mind.” Slade tells him. “Then the body.”

“Yes master.” His apprentice replies and sticks close to his side, keeping his gaze focused on Slade to prove his dedication. Already Slade can see he’s starting to fear that the one person who knows who he is might leave him alone and afraid. As he should. He was Slade’s thing now, his property in every way that mattered. His only concern should be his master’s will.

The boy’s actually relieved when they enter the sanctum and Slade takes his usual seat. His apprentice practically falls into his usual position at the foot of the chair, though Slade’s unsure if habit or muscle pain is the deciding factor to how eager he is to rest at his master’s feet.

He lets one hand slip down and rest on the boy’s head. Another barely disguised shiver of happiness and his apprentice leans into the touch on instinct. Good boy. He lets his fingers trail lower where he can take the boy’s pulse. After taking a moment to establish a baseline he starts his test.

The boy doesn’t show any negative effects as Slade leads him through the mundane and into the more personal questions. The memory loss is...subjective, when questioned on a part Slade had him capture his apprentice can name the part and how it was obtained but without memory of _him_ doing it. He knows how the mission went without memory of how that knowledge was obtained.

Slade decides to pry, to test the limits of the boy’s amnesia. Without warning he brings up a picture. It’s a hazy still from a security camera feed, the image as high-quality as he could get it, for training purposes. He feels the boy’s body tense under his fingers and his heartrate jump.

“I...killed him.” His apprentice answers, seeming surprised at the answer.

Slade doesn’t correct him, the guard had died as a result of his apprentice’s actions under Slade’s orders but he doesn’t feel it counts as a kill. It had counted for his apprentice though and Slade had kept the picture to bring up every time the boy tried to claim some kind of moral superiority. His friends would never accept him now he was a killer, or that’s what Slade had told him.

He feels the boy’s heartbeat humming under his fingertips. His apprentice swallows and...accepts it. He sits a little straighter and holds himself with a little more discipline as he accepts he is a killer. Slade feels a little pride and a dark, roiling tide of possessiveness. _His_ apprentice. His perfect little soldier...

He brings up a picture of the Teen Titans. His apprentice winces and clutches at his head.

“Are you remembering?” Slade asks, getting a close look at his boy’s face so he can tell if he’s lying.

“Feels…sad.” The boy says, shaking his head as if to clear the feeling away. “I don’t like it.”

“Then we’ll destroy them.” Slade says smoothly and the boy’s eye widen in surprise.

“Yes master. T-Thank you master.” He stammers, clearly confused by the unexpected concern for his comfort.

Slade merely wants to clean up the remaining loose ends.

“They are the enemy.” Slade tells his apprentice. “They wish to hurt you, to deceive you and make you doubt yourself, doubt _me.”_

He tilts the boy’s face towards him.

“I am the one thing you can trust in this world.” He says softly. “I will never betray you. Everything I do for you is for your own betterment. Trust in me, and nothing else.”

The boy’s eye meets his own. For a moment, just a moment Slade sees the fear there, the fear of not knowing who you are in a strange and yet familiar world, then the boy hides in the comfort of the one familiar face that’s been with him through his awakening. Slade knows now that the boy is his forever.

That was the thing about strong minds; they were difficult to break head-on but if you could change what they believed in then they would defend it with the same vigor as their previous belief. He won’t doubt Slade again, in the same way Robin hadn’t doubted his friends. His mind wouldn’t let him.

One last thing...

“What about this one?” Slade takes the plunge and shows him a picture of Batman.

It’s not a good picture, there were precious few pictures at all, something in the suit was designed to mess with cameras. The picture is mostly blackness with two glowing white eyes. The boy’s eyes go wide and he pulls back, drawing his knees up defensively.

“Scared. _Angry._ Sad again. Very sad.” His eyes drop. “I don’t remember, I’m _sorry,_ I don’t remember.”

Slade rests a hand on his shoulder. He tilts his apprentice’s head up so he is meeting his master’s eye. His apprentice looks back at him, trying to keep his face still but shining in his eye is fear and under that a deep desire for reassurance.

“Don’t ever go near this man.” Slade warns softly. “Don’t let him see you, don’t let him touch you. If he captures you…He will try to destroy you. He will try to take you away from me, to break you, to make you doubt who you are. He’s the most dangerous man in the universe to you.” Slade rubs his thumb over the boy’s cheek. “I will protect you from him.”

Sheer relief shines from the boy’s face.

“Thank you master.” He says with a genuine gratitude and, perhaps, something that might be love and might be the fanatical devotion Slade wanted.

Slade smiles, just enough to let his apprentice know he’s genuinely pleased..

“Come.” He orders. “Now we retrain your body.”

It doesn’t take long to do that, muscle memory is intact even if the muscles aren’t and soon his apprentice’s physical condition is restored.

Naturally Slade takes the opportunity to reinforce his conditioning whenever possible, reassuring him that his lingering feelings towards the memory of his friends were because they were his enemies. It’s a slow but fruitful process to turn his dedication to a new target. The boy was alone and afraid, looking for someone to put all his trust in. Slade turns his fears into military discipline, making sure his training is all the boy knows. The kid’s own mind locks in the false memories, taking the comfort of obeying his master over the fearful uncertainty of doubting him.

It takes a few months but eventually Slade replaces Batman in the boy’s mind and Slade decides it’s safe to let him into the outside world.

It’s premature.

It wasn’t that Slade didn’t expect the Teen Titans to be angry, he knew conflict with them would come soon, but he underestimated the speed of their response. He hadn’t taken the job under his own name, it was supposed to be a test of his apprentice that he would merely oversee to ensure he wasn’t attempting an escape.

Still he had gotten cocky. How well the boy had taken to his re-education had made him overconfident and he’d left enough of a digital footprint for the Titans to be there when they hit the target. That was bat-tech; the mark by which every villain’s technology was measured. Going dark meant his own technology had fallen behind, the reason he’d chosen this mission to begin with.

He’d made sure the Bat was away but after so long he hadn’t expected the Titans to still fight so hard. He’d expected that as time passed they would have gotten over Robin’s betrayal and gone their separate ways. Instead once they knew Slade was involved they’d come at him full force with the vicious experience of the years without their leader there to save them.

Things had gotten messy fast. He hadn’t thought they would willingly destroy the facility to get to him (the owner was the innocent victim here after all) or that they’d be able to separate him from his apprentice.

Slade was prepared to see his work undone, to have to recapture his apprentice from their greedy clutches and retrain him, but, his uniform scorched and torn and his mask half shattered, his apprentice returned to him with their prize clutched in one trembling fist.

The boy is breathing hard even though his wounds have already healed. He takes a knee and bows his head. Slowly his fingers unfurl as he offers the chip to his master.

Slade is proud enough to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. The boy breathes out a relieved sigh and the tension leaves him in a wave, taking comfort in how steadfast his master’s form had become to him. His breathing steadies and Slade releases his grip, looking down at him with pride behind the mask. The boy looks up at him with undisguised relief. The Titans had shaken him and he’d retreated to the one thing in this world he could rely on. His master.

The boy is _his_ now, they’ll never take him back even if they do recognize him. He hasn’t aged since he got the serum, he likely wouldn’t reach adulthood until long after Slade was dead and gone, if at all. Between that and how training has hardened him...why would they suspect Robin survived? They’d seen the body themselves. He’d used a satellite to watch the sad little funeral they’d held for the cloned corpse and been satisfied their grief was genuine. They truly believed Robin was dead.

He was.

His apprentice hadn’t been Robin for a long time.

The apprentice’s head feels a boiling pot as he returns to the safety of home. He wasn’t expecting to see the enemy...He wasn’t expecting seeing the enemy to _hurt._ There’s a deep pain in his chest like a wound to his heart and his eyes had welled with tears behind his mask. What had these people who felt so familiar done to him that it hurt just to see them? Every blow he landed felt like it had hit him instead and the blows they had landed...he was glad he was like his master, if he wasn’t he’d never have escaped their fury. It had been a relief to return to his master’s feet. His master was safe, secure and comforting compared to the seething confused bubbling stew his feelings became around the Titans.

They blamed him for the death of one of their own, it was a name that felt just as confusingly familiar as their faces did but he doesn’t _know,_ he didn’t _remember_...

“Why the troubled look, Apprentice? You performed admirably today.” His master asks him softly as he runs his fingers through the boy’s hair.

He flexes his fingers and breathes out. To not know, to have to ask his Master for help feels…embarrassing. It’s admitting weakness, weakness should be driven out, but he can’t conceal his weakness from his master. He meets his master’s eye.

“I am troubled by something I heard today Master.” He confesses. “The…Titans, they claimed you were using me as a replacement for…Robin.”

His master’s eye narrows and he flinches at the sign of his master’s displeasure.

“They are the enemy, they lie to you to try and turn you against me. They do this because they know we are strong and they are weak.” His master’s hand rests on his shoulder and he takes comfort in it. “But we can not be divided, can we Apprentice?”

“No master.” He says emphatically, happy to prove he hasn’t said this out of doubts of loyalty. “My loyalty is to you.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes and he draws in a breath. “That was never in question, I was just wondering…Who is Robin?”

There’s a moment where even he can’t tell what his master is thinking, then his master stands.

“Come.” He orders and the apprentice falls into step at his side as he’s lead to the situations room.

A few deft flicks of his master’s hand activates the computer terminal. He brings up an image on screen. A flash of sickness runs through the apprentice in a cold shudder.

“This was Robin.” His master tells him.

“Was?” The apprentice questions.

“Was.” His master confirms. “He’s dead now.”

The apprentice finds his hand is outstretched, reaching towards the smiling boy on the screen as if he could touch the boy through the picture somehow. He doesn’t feel the tear rolling down his cheek.

“Are you sure?” The apprentice asks hoarsely, even though questioning his master was something to be punished.

The screen switches off and the image dies, leaving him in darkness with a sudden feeling of loss he doesn’t know how to escape.

“Yes.” His master tells him. “I killed him myself.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smutty epilogue

The apprentice is happy.

The mission went well, he’d avoided the enemy and returned safely home to his master with his target. His master had rested his hand on his apprentice’s head while he knelt at the foot of his chair and told him he’d done a good job.

He’s happy, so very happy, his master is pleased, he did well, he got praised. The feeling fills him up with a reassuring warmth that grows and flutters in strange ways in his stomach and below that. He doesn’t know what that feeling is until he’s stripping to clean the sweat from the fight off in the shower. As he pulls away the part that protected his crotch his penis springs up, hard and sensitive. The apprentice bites his lip. So this feeling was arousal, how embarrassing. He remembered, vaguely, some scientific information about teenagers and hormones and puberty and guesses this was inevitable.

He breathes out a shuddering sigh and braces himself against the wall. He did feel good though. The memory of his master’s praise filled him with a happy buzzing warmth that radiated from his core down to his feet. His master was really all he had in this world, no siblings, no other teen that wasn’t trying to kill him or he wasn’t trying to kill. It made sense that it was his master who made him feel this way. Still, he tells himself, he can’t very well walk around the hideout like this. As wonderful as this feeling was it was a liability in combat.

He starts the shower, lathering the soap over himself and scrubbing as he tries to take his mind off it. While he does get himself clean that warm shivery feeling doesn’t leave his body and while he’s scrubbing his chest he brushes against a nipple and he bites his lip hard to stifle the sound he made. He carefully tries to finish washing without stimulating himself further but he’s still weak and shivery with excitement by the time he washes the last of the foam from his body.

Experimentally he touches a nipple again. It’s achingly red and sensitive and as he rolls the tender nub of flesh between his fingers the warm feeling inside him grows stronger. He toys with them both, alternating which one he touches to see if it makes a difference, and finding they grow harder the harder he plays with them. Each touch just adds fuel to the fire warming him under his skin but it’s just building not satisfying him.

He bites the bullet and leaves one hand to keep rolling a nipple between his fingers. With the other he experimentally touches his shaft. The pleasure is immediate and even sharper than the feeling from his nipples. He braces himself in a stance with his legs wide and his head nearly touching the shower wall as he carefully explores the feeling. He keeps his first touches light, simply mapping the shape of his balls and the base of his shaft before he lets his grip grow firmer and move up his shaft towards the more sensitive head. The first stroke is slow but firm and after he’s done he grows bolder in exploring the sensation of his palm against his cock. He moves his hand faster and clenches his teeth to keep the sound that tries to escape him inside. He can barely feel the water begin to grow cold over the heat under his skin. The feelings growing so strong now it’s consuming him, he can’t think of anything else but it. His body is hot and aching and shaking and he wants more and more and more…

His hand slips and hits the wall. He bites his lip again as the building heat fades without being satisfied. He growls, sets his stance firmer, and tries again. This time he doesn’t have to start off gentle, he remembers more of what his body likes and how to build that feeling. He focuses entirely on getting that feeling to reach the peak he was building towards. He’s rougher and stops holding back his sounds as much. The harsh grunts and gasps for air are mostly lost in the sounds of running water.

Again he feels the warmth in him boiling, the waves of radiating heat filling him up and gathering at the base of his cock. He’s so close he’s panting for it when his hand slips again. He snarls in frustration and slams his hand against the wall.

“You’ve forgotten haven’t you?” His master’s voice says and the apprentice immediately stiffens in surprise as he leaps to attention. “I take care of that.”

“Master, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He babbles, crossing his chest with one hand and standing at attention.

He flushes red with embarrassment at letting his guard down enough that he didn’t realize his master’s approach. He feels an additional stab of guilt that his master has seen him in this condition. He can’t stand ready and cover his erection at the same time and his body knows its more important to pay attention to his master than hide his shame. The happy warmth that had filled him at being praised is replaced by the cold fear of disappointing his master.

His master looks him up and down and he shivers as he suddenly feels the cold of the shower’s spray. He forces his body to stand strictly at attention in the perfect posture, afraid that even shivering from the cold will make things worse.

“Get dried off and meet me upstairs.” His master order and turns off the water.

“Yes sir.” The apprentice says with his throat dry and remains at attention until his master has left the room.

Once he does the apprentice relaxes, but not much, and reaches for a towel. Surprisingly despite the mix of self-loathing and guilt that’s now boiling in his bones his cock hasn’t gone down. It seems harder than ever even as he roughly towels it dry. He resigns himself to the problem not going away even though he winces when he gets changed into his casual gear and sees the bulge his cock makes in the front of his pants. He reminds himself that his master ordered him to meet with him after drying off, not to take care of the problem first, and he doesn't know if he _can_. He forces himself to head upstairs.

Even through the fear the heat inside him isn’t going away, the buzz of it has gotten sharper and sharper in anticipation of…something. His body wants to keep touching himself even though he knows it won’t let him be satisfied. He tries to focus his mind, to keep himself from being blinded by it like he had been in the shower, but he still nearly moans as he touches the doorknob. He forces down the wave of pleasure that’s suddenly crested in his stomach and opens the door.

His master is waiting for him, and the heat in him flutters. His master isn’t wearing the mask and it still felt so luxuriously forbidden to get to see his face. They didn’t wear the masks when they were in a safehouse like this but still. These small moments of safety were hard fought for and worth savoring.

His master, naturally, notices him immediately.

“Come.” He orders with a gesture and with a treacherous lurch the apprentice’s body nearly obeys in the other sense of the word.

The apprentice swallows hard and walks to his master’s chair as directed. He takes his usual position kneeling at the foot of it and hears the small sound of his master’s disapproval. His blood runs cold and he immediately presses his head to the ground in full dogeza position, fearing whatever he’s done that his master has decided he isn’t worthy to kneel anymore. A sudden spike of fear pierces his heart that he might be banished from his master’s presence altogether, then what would he do?

“No.” His master says and he feels his master’s hand on his head. “Head up boy.”

He swallows the taste of acid bile that has risen in his throat and dares to look up. His master look down on him with something that might be annoyance and might be amusement but was far from the icy terror of his master’s hate.

“Again, but in front of me.” His master orders.

Trying not to tremble the apprentice moves until he’s at the front of his master’s chair and once again kneels but in front of him, so close that his master’s knees are on either side of him. He hasn’t knelt here before but once he does the position feels familiar. The feeling inside him flutters stronger.

His master breathes out a gentle sigh and raises one hand. He rests it on the apprentice’ head, letting his fingers run through the boy’s still slightly damp hair, and caresses his cheek. With his other hand he undoes his belt. As he does he also raises his boot and plants it squarely between the apprentice’s legs. The feeling strikes like lightning as his master’s foot presses down on him, in these clothes he has no protection except a thin layer of cloth between his master’s sole and his still achingly hard penis. Despite this the feeling is as much pleasure as pain and despite the sharpness of the sensation it relaxes him and he stays perfectly still, watching as his master finishes undoing his belt, slips down his underwear and tugs free his own cock.

Even soft it’s so big the apprentice feels his own erection is insignificant by comparison. It’s long and thick and veiny with white curls dusting its base and the apprentice feels a sudden deep longing for it. Still he is a good apprentice and he makes himself wait for the order. His master rubs a palm over it idly before he reaches out with his other hand and buries that in his apprentice’s hair too.

“Go ahead.” His master says, his voice strangely soft in a way that made his heart nearly beat out of his chest with anticipation. “Give it a taste.”

This is the permission he’s been looking for.

The apprentice lurches forwards to obey and finds that doing so pushes his cock against the heel of his master’s boot in a stab of pain. He barely hesitates, he can’t change his position and he wouldn’t dream of asking his master to move his foot and besides, the feeling wasn’t just pain.

He happily leans all the way in so his head is on his master’s lap and he can rest his cheek against his master’s cock. He draws in a breath through his nose and the musky scent of his master’s length is wonderfully familiar. As ordered he sticks out his tongue and gives it a taste and the taste is familiar too. He leans in further even though the pressure of his master’s foot makes him feel like his balls are going to explode and eagerly starts to lick and mouth at the familiar length.

Like with his shower experiment he starts off simply exploring before he starts to remember the way to do it. He laps along his master’s entire length, making sure to make long strokes with his tongue across his shaft before he tries what he knows he should be doing and takes the tip of it into his mouth. The musky taste is even stronger and he’s surprised to find his mouth knows how to fit it all in him all the way down to the base.

He can only breath in short shallow gasps from his nose now but his master is getting hard and the fluttering heat is getting stronger and stronger the more he knows he’s pleasing his master. His master’s hands hold the back on his head, keeping him in position where he couldn’t pull back enough for his master’s cock to leave his mouth but he doesn’t want to.

The happy warmth called arousal is back but it feels so much stronger and more complete now. This is where he belonged, this is where that happy feeling called arousal meant he should be. His body couldn’t reach the height of satisfaction on its own, for that he needed to be of service to his master. It’s all coming back to him. His body remembers what to do.

His master’s hands let go and he draws his head back, letting his master’s cock slip from his throat. It’s fully hard now and even bigger and thicker and it stands upright barely an inch from his lips. He remembers what to do, how to please his master fully, but if his master wanted that he wouldn’t have let go. He would have fucked his face and that thought it a hot dark little thought that makes his cock twinge against his master’s foot. His master fucked him, his master _fucked_ him and that was the purpose for arousal, to facilitate this.

“Up.” His master orders and the apprentice lurches forwards to obey before he discovers he doesn’t remember how to.

His master sees the sudden flash of panic in his eyes and his gaze softens. He taps the sides of the chair. “Legs here.” He orders. “And kneel.”

The apprentice gratefully takes the indicated position. Even without the armor his master was a large man and his legs end up slipping between the edge of the chair and his master’s thighs, spreading them wide. He swallows at the feeling of straddling his master’s lap. The bulge in his pants has gotten larger and now there’s a spot of spreading dampness staining the fabric darker.

“Hands” His master orders, looking up at him and oh, that was another spike in the heat in his belly. “Here.” He taps his chest.

The apprentice flushes deeply as he obeys and feels the hardened toned muscle of his master’s chest against his fingers. The position that he’s in, with his back slightly arched for balance is like an electric line being connected. He makes a small pathetic sound as he shivers from the waves of pleasure breaking sharply inside him.

“Now you remember.” His master says and sounds pleased. His fingers toy with a loose strand of the apprentice’s hair. “Take off your pants.”

The apprentice fumbles to obey, his fingers feeling stiff and numb as he removes the last barrier covering his cock. It’s even harder now and flushing red with precum running from the head. Just seeing it makes him feel debauched. He loves all of this so much, his body was just reminding him of that.

His cock stands side by side with his master's, nearly touching it, and it looks so small and delicate and useless compared to it. He can’t think of any use it would have in pleasuring someone else, and its such a specific thought he knows it’s something he’s been taught. His body is pathetic compared to his master’s and that’s alright because all he needs it for is pleasuring his master and it’s perfectly suited for that. He couldn’t please anyone he fucked with his tiny useless cock but he could please his master with his mouth…

And his body…

He remembers it now and his body shifts without him, repositioning himself subtly and holding, waiting for the order. His master smiles (his _smile_ ) and strokes his cheek. He nods, just once, and the apprentice’s body moves without him.

He feels his master’s cock press against him (so _big_ ) and stretch him then push inside him. Just like his mouth had stretched to take it his body too knows what to do and even though his master was so big he didn’t think he could take it he does. He takes all of his master’s cock all the way down to the base and looks down at his master with his eyes hazed with lust, desperate to show him that he still remembered how to do this. His cock weeps precum against his stomach as his master’s cock fills him in ways he didn’t know he could be filled but at the same time feel so familiar. Yes this was it, he couldn’t reach his peak with his hand because his body rejected the pleasure without his master. He could only cum when his master allowed it. To cum was a _reward_ to be earned with service and now he knew how to serve his master.

His body starts to move without him, lifting itself up and lowering again on his master’s lap, following the same movements he had with his mouth. His body knew, it quickly remembers what his master liked and in the process it shudders from the sheer bliss that was being filled by his master’s cock. He was good, he was of use, he could bring his master pleasure. Each hard thrust of his master’s cock inside him bumps up against a special spot inside him that makes him see white every time it does. His legs shake with the desperate effort to keep him upright against the feeling. He just barely strangles a sound deep in his throat as it hits, not wanting to disturb his master by being loud.

“No,” his master whispers to him “Let it out, let it all out, I want to hear you scream for me.”

The apprentice relaxes, gratefully letting go of trying not to make noise. His first moan is cracked and broken but after that the sound gets smoother and clearer as he lets his voice convey what his body is feeling. He moans and gasp and words tumble from him like water over a waterfall, words that aren’t quite sentences like ‘please’ ‘more’ ‘yes’ ‘master’ and ‘good.’ He babbles and begs for something, he doesn’t know what, and looks down at his master’s face through tear rimmed eyes as he does his best. His master doesn’t moan or plead or even show much emotion at all beyond a slight quickening of the breath but his cock is still hard inside him so the apprentice knows he’s still doing well. He pushes himself harder and harder, wanting to please his master even as precum spills from his cock and it hurts so much but he can’t cum until he’s told to.

His master reaches out and cups his cheek. With his thumb he wipes away one of the tears trickling down his apprentice’s face.

“Master…” His apprentice begs, but he’s not sure if he’s begging for permission to cum or for his master to tell him he’s feeling pleasure from his work. “Master…Master please.”

“Slade.” His master tells him. “When we’re like this you can call me Slade.”

“Slade.” The apprentice whispers and the word sits so weighty on his tongue. “Slade, please.”

“You want to cum don’t you?” His master asks.

“Yes.” The apprentice confesses in a harsh whisper.

“And you want to please me too don’t you?” His master asks.

“Yes!” The apprentice’s voice cracks as he tries to put as much need into a single syllable as he can.

His master smiles.

“You’re a good boy.” He says and the praise is nearly enough to push the apprentice over the edge. He sobs with the effort of keeping himself from cumming.

His master grabs him and stills his hips. The apprentice immediately stops moving in obedience.

“Say my name.” His master leans in so he’s level with the apprentice’s ear. “One more time.”

“Slade…” The apprentice pleads.

“Tell me what you want Apprentice. Clearly.” His master whispers.

“I want to please you.” The apprentice barely keeps his voice from wavering. “I want to please you and I want to cum, please, master.”

“You’ve done well today Apprentice, and I’m sensitive to the limitations of your…condition. You deserve a reward.” His master says and the apprentice groans at the word reward. His master grabs his head, pulling it in close. “You can cum as many times as you’d like.” He whispers in his apprentice’s ear and changes their position. He throws one leg over the arm of the chair, moving the apprentice in his lap so the boy’s on his back on the arm of the chair with his legs still spread.

Then he starts to thrust.

The apprentice cums nearly instantly, he has the permission of his master and his master’s weigh on top of him as his master’s thick cock presses up against the good spot inside of him. He doesn’t have to be afraid that his body’s pleasure will keep him from pleasing his master when his master is the one using his body. He can just let that feeling build up inside him, the waves growing sharper and sharper until they reached that point where pain became pleasure and his vision whites out.

He cums screaming his master’s name and a white stripe of cum spurts up and paints his stomach.

The feeling is intense but it doesn’t stop. His master keeps on using him, thrusting in harder and faster and making his whole body tremble with each thrust. His whole body is nothing but the feeling, the feeling of being used to pleasure his master. It dances the line of pleasure and pain, pulling weaker spurts of cum from his cock as his master thrusts in. His world becomes nothing but that feeling and ( _finally_ ) the sounds of his master’s pleasure. His master’s quickened breathing turns to snorts and gasps, then a quiet swear, then a louder gasp and a louder swear then his master starts to talk to him, little whispered compliments about how tight his ass is and how well he takes cock. He can’t do much but moan in acknowledgement at the showering of praise his master sees fit to give him. Eventually he has enough breath to manage a word. He picks his master’s name and moans it, screams it, begs with it as throughout the fucking the pleasure returns and begins to build again.

He thinks he cums three times before his master finally thrusts in hard with a grunt and a snap of his hips and graces his apprentice with his cum. The apprentice’s body aches with pain in the haze of the afterglow but it’s a good pain. It’s the pain of being thoroughly used by his master, and it was a reward.


End file.
